


Heartbreak

by PaddyChan



Series: Heartbeat [4]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: And Failing, But Ronan doesn't know how to Terran either, He's doing his best tho, He's not even trying tho, M/M, Not what you think, Peter just doesn't know how to Kree, Return of the Smut, this has gotten out of hand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 13:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15535587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaddyChan/pseuds/PaddyChan
Summary: Ronan learns -again- why leaving Peter to deal with things on his own is predestinated for chaos.





	Heartbreak

“Ooh-oo child, things are gonna get easier…”  
“Stop it.”  
Peter gave a small pout. “I’m nervous! You know how much singing helps about that.”  
Ronan didn’t bother replying. It didn’t matter anyway, Peter wasn’t even listening to him. His lover’s brain tended to shut down whenever he got any kind of emotion. It had taken him quite a long time not to take it as an offense towards his authority, when in reality it was just… well, Peter.  
“Do I have to do anything? Bow? Like they do in Japan? Shake hands? Hug…? Hey, remember that first time I hugged you? You stabbed me in the gut and… Okay, no hug. But what if-” Ronan stopped paying attention, since it was the only way to refrain from snapping at him, which would hurt Peter’s way too sensitive feelings, forcing him to find a way to make it up to him which normally lead straight to sex, which he didn’t have the time for right now.  
He regretted telling his father about his… relationship, Peter called it. Ronan never named what it was between them, since he was quite certain he wouldn’t like the outcome. Not that he was too cowardly to do so, it was just- “Did you even tell them how we met? You know, you don’t have to, I know it’s a sore spot… you can come up with something else, if you want to, you’ll just have to tell me so I can-” Not too long ago, Ronan had visited his parents, since it was the anniversary of the day they had signed their life-sharing agreement. His father had told him, a few families had proposed their daughters to him and he expected him to pick someone out. His father was in no position to make such demands anymore, since Ronan had taken over his rank, as soon as it had turned out the damage on his left arm was beyond repair, leaving him unable to lead command in their military forces anymore… However, he was a veteran, highly respected, and his words counted among many.  
Thus, he had told his father he already had an obedient partner… a male one. Ronan bit back a snort as he glanced towards where Peter was still mumbling nonsense under his breath. The only time Peter managed something even close to obedience was after the third time he’d been fucked at a wall. Probably because he was halfway into a coma. However…. His father had wished to meet the man and even though Ronan toyed with the idea of declining, he’d agreed. Maybe because he knew how much it would mean to Peter to meet him. His Terran never even tried to conceal how he missed his own parent. Some days Ronan thought it pitiful.  
“You’re not even listening.” He could hear the pout in Peter’s voice (the Terran’s version of a pout that didn’t lead to wiping out planets) and didn’t even turn around as he answered. “You were talking for the last eight minutes and twenty seconds.”  
“That’s no excuse at all!” Peter pointed accusingly at him. “I’m a total wreck! I’m nervous as hell! I’ll get to meet your mom, that’s-” “You are going to meet my father, not her.”  
“What?” Peter blinked. “You mean… your mom won’t be there?”  
“It is not appropriate for a woman to sit amongst men to talk,” the Kree answered, not rising his eyes from the Dark Aster’s control panels. Peter was silent for a moment. “I really wanna meet her,” he confessed. “You know my own mom was everything to me. She made me the person I am today… If she were here, she’d be coming along at all costs. And I just want to meet the people who made you the way you are. I could talk to her in private, if that’s-” “The suggestion alone is outrageous,” Ronan interrupted him. Peter obviously didn’t even think about what it would mean for his father’s honour, if his mother went to have a talk with some other male -no matter the species- in private. If it hadn’t been Peter, such an offer would have to be punished severely.  
“So, there’s no way to talk to her?”, Peter asked, disappointment clouding his normally cheerful mood.  
Ronan stayed silent for such a long time, Peter already deemed to topic dropped, before commanding: “Get behind the pillar.”  
“What?” He blinked in confusion and Ronan forced himself to repeat. “Get behind the pillar on your left. _Now._ ” In a way, he was grateful Peter was no Kree. There was no way someone as him would be ever considered honourable… he’d probably spend his life alone, socially discharged. What a loss for Hala that would be, he thought dimly. Peter might be annoying, weak, unable to follow commands (except they lead to any kind of sex), way to talkative, but… he was willing to sacrifice anything for those he held dear and always stuck to his word. He _was_ a man of honour… in his own way, if one cared to look close enough.  
“Ronan.”  
The Accuser gave a short nod of salute. “Father.”  
“What is it?”  
“He kindly asks to meet mother.”  
There was a heavy silence, as the former leader of the Krees’ military forces waited for any kind of further explanation, however; none was offered. “Why would he?”, he finally demanded.  
“He was raised by his mother alone, which explains his wish of meeting mine.” Ronan wouldn’t explain further, it was Peter’s decision whether he wished to, at some point.  
“Where was this father of his, if not doing the appropriate?”  
“He was a dick! I hope he burns in hell!”, Peter shouted from behind his column. Ronan growled. “Shut up.”  
Peter frowned but refrained from answering. He didn’t want to disgrace Ronan, which he probably would do somehow, if he continued talking. Kree and their shitty social standards with their shitty manner and their fucked up concept of honour and loyalty and their totally overgrown- “Peter.”  
The Terran looked up, straight into the Accuser’s purple eyes. “Did you listen?”  
“No.” He’d been too busy ranting inwardly. Also, he couldn’t help but be a little pissed about Ronan shutting him up. If he’d simply asked him beforehand- “Mother will be with us. Be aware such is highly inept among my people.”  
Peter smiled. “I know, Roro. Thanks.”  
“Don’t call me that.”

When they touched down on Hala, both of the planet’s suns had already lowered. There was no one to be seen and Peter was quite certain Ronan had ordered them gone, so nobody would see them. They quickly got into a smaller pod, Ronan taking over the controls.  
“Do you think they’ll like me? I really hope they’ll like me.”  
“They probably will not.”  
Peter snorted. “Thank you so much, Roro. That was exactly what I needed at that point.”  
His lover didn’t even avert his eyes towards him. “Was that you so-called sarcasm?”  
The Terran sighed.  
A few minutes later, the pod touched down and Ronan got up. “You will stay behind me.”  
Peter rolled his eyes. “Very well, almighty Accuser.”  
He went towards the door of a… Peter wasn’t sure what. An apartment? A house inside other houses? Anyway it was _huge_ , and just… entered. He didn’t even knock. A little hesitatingly, Peter followed.  
“Ronan.” Without preamble, two Kree stood in front of them, nearly making him flinch. Why did blue people have to be so… sneaky?  
“Father.” Ah, the love was already radiating. “Mother.” Fucking shit, Roro. A Hello or something more and the sappiness would kill someone.  
“This is… it?” A pair of nearly black, penetrating eyes focussed on him. Peter bit his tongue to refrain from answering. He just couldn’t embarrass Ronan in front of his parents by offering to take off his pants for a closer look. Instead, he smiled. “I brought coffee. Ronan likes it, so I thought you might as well.” He pulled forth two small bags. “I wrote some instructions as well, so you’ll know how much water to use.” He set them on a table. The house was just as empty as every Kree seemed to prefer. Necessaries. No pictures, no plants, nothing. Just an empty house with some space to store stuff. They weren’t even offered a seat or something.  
Ronan’s communicator beeping interrupted the not-introduction.  
Growling, the Accuser switched it on, his face darkening. Without another word, he retreated into some other room, leaving them standing around awkwardly, way too apart from each other for conversation. After a few uncomfortable seconds, Peter cleared his throat. “Anyway… I’m not sure if Ronan’s told you, but I’m Peter. I just-” “You are inadmissible.” Peter blinked. “I’m sorry, what now?”  
“You are inadmissible,” Ronan’s father repeated, teeth bared. “Whoring yourself out of the possibility of a social rank, getting in the way of the Accuser’s duty. I cannot believe he has fallen to such lows in order to-” “The fuck are you talking about?!” Peter forced himself to calm down, even though he was starting to get furious. “Ronan is the most duteous person I’ve ever met! And you don’t even know-”  
Wrecking pain, as the back of a blue hand connected with his cheek, whipping it aside. Something crunched, it sounded like the cereals his mother had always gotten him as a child. Crispy, chocolaty ones. He felt his body meet the floor, his head hitting the ground. It didn’t even hurt. His mouth rapidly filled with blood, but he couldn’t open it. He lost consciousness, before things could get even worse.

Silence.  
He hated silence.  
He was comfortable, tho. So things could be worse. His body was fixed, be couldn’t even move an inch, lest of all his head. The Dark Aster, he realised. He recognised the medical rooms. What did they do this time? Or rather, what did _he_ do his time?  
The door slid open, however, he was unable to lift his head in an attempt to look who was entering.  
“Peter.” Ah. Ronan. That was good. Was it? Yes. Yes, he was quite sure it was.  
The Accuser stepped closer, so Peter didn’t have to twist his eyes to be able to see him. “Why… why am I here?” His tongue felt weird. Talking hurt. Not too bad, but it still was uncomfortable.  
“Your neck was broken.” Along with his cheek-bones.  
Peter blinked. “My… neck? What… What did I do?”  
Ronan’s purple eyes seemed to burn into his very soul. He couldn’t read them right now. “You had a disagreement with my father. He claims you have spoken out of your rank, forcing him to take action.” Peter blinked again. “Your… father?”  
“Yes. Duty forced me to seek privacy for a moment, however, when I returned, I found him already-” “When did I meet your father?” Confused green eyes stared into purple ones. For a moment that dragged a little too long, Ronan kept quiet. “What is your last memory?” Peter blinked a third time. His brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton. “The… The car broke down. I couldn’t afford getting all the repairs done, so I asked you.”  
This time, the silence dragged even longer. “That was nearly two terran weeks ago.” Two weeks? No, he’d asked Ronan today. He’d decided to take a nap afterwards, since it had been so warm outside.  
A large hand caressed his hair with unusual gentleness, before something occurred him. “Shouldn’t I be dead or something? I think you kind of die if your neck’s broken, do you?”  
“Korath managed to re-attach your splintered spine, however he needed to clone stem cells in order to regrow parts of your snapped spinal cord down your fifth dorsal. It is still fragile, you should not move overly much.” Preferably not at all. There was a reason he’s been fixed in bed.  
Sad, green eyes looked up to him. “I guess your father didn’t like me.” His whole figure slumped, even though it already lay in bed. “I’m sorry.” His eyelids drooped again; he was so very tired.  
For a moment, Ronan watched his terran lover who had fallen asleep again within mere seconds. Alive. At least.

 _“Double the Outer Guards in sectors thirty-nine to fifty-three, make sure the Beta-signal is steady. In case of attack, all Units are to set off the silent alarm. Do_ not _attack, we will have to figure out their escape pattern.”_  
_He ended the conversation without even waiting for confirmation. He didn’t want to leave Peter by himself overly long; he always managed to get into some sort of trouble. Sometimes he wondered how the Terran had even survived until they had met._  
_He made his way back to his parents. They should have- ”What did you do?” The words had gotten past his lips before he had even completely taken in the scenery. Peter was lying on the floor, red blood seeping from the corners of his mouth. He quickly got closer, on instinct opening Peter’s mouth. He had bitten his tongue clean off; blood had already started running back in his throat._  
_“Korath. Get here immediately.” He shut off his communicator again, turning back to his father, who hadn’t moved an inch, his face hard. “What did you_ do?! _”, he snapped, eyes burning with rage. How dare he? How dare he touch what was his, to destroy- “He has spoken out of rank.” His father’s words were a harsh reminder of his own mistakes, his misinterpretations of his lover’s… character. “He spoke up to me. His physique is pitiable if anything. I expected better-” “Silence.” His command was neither loud nor harsh. As the leader of the Kree-Empire’s military forces, it never needed to. As such he spoke, forcing his father to close his mouth, as he was no longer talking to his son but his military leader.  
Before either of them spoke again, Korath stormed inside. Without even asking what happened, he made a beeline to Peter’s unconscious figure on the ground. This had been bound to go wrong._

__

It took two days until Peter was allowed to leave the bed. Another two, before he finally remembered what had happened during the last days (he still had some blanks though, but at least most of his memory was back). Anyway, he was still depressed about how things had been going. He’d wanted so _much_ for Ronan’s parents to like him, or at least… well, be kind of okay with him (expecting something better on an emotional basis from a Kree was kinda dumb, honestly).  
“Do you still wish to visit Low-Town?” He flinched, as Ronan spoke up from behind him. Damn, how did all this blue bulk of muscles move around like a ninja? He remembered the last time he’d asked -maybe even begged a little; negations with Ronan tended to be a little… hard. Anyway, Ronan had shown him (in disguise of course) what was considered “the proper” parts of Hala’s capital. Large towers build entirely out of black crystal, the planet’s main space station that was so incredibly large he couldn’t even see where it ended -he would’ve been lost within minutes, if it hadn’t been for Ronan-, the military camps, seeing large groups of Kree practicing hand-to-hand combat… he’d been in disguise, of course, as Ronan couldn’t afford being seen with… well… him. But still it had been incredible. When he’d asked to go to see, well, normal things, Ronan had immediately declined. No, he was not to go to the market. Nor the worker’s quarters. Or wherever else Accusers didn’t tend to run around. Places like that were improper to be, far below his social rank. Peter even had pouted a little -fuck it, he’d even tried to bribe him with a blowjob- but Ronan refused. And well, that basically had been the end of it. No normal-people’s-stuff for Peter. But that didn’t mean…  
“Of course I do! I really wanted last time, but you didn’t-” “Switch your clothes. Put on this.” He threw a strange, dark cloak into the Terran’s arms. “You won’t stand out that much if no one notices these horrible clothes of yours-” “Hey!”, Peter complained. “This certifies you as a political ally considering Hala’s intergalactically involvements, allowing you diplomatic immunity unless you severely disregard law,” the Accuser waltzed on, placing a strange… card? Or was it a chip? On the back of his hand. “You may buy whatever you come to like, as any kind of payment in need will be directly transferred from my own accounts. Be sure to-” “Are you trying to cheer me up?”, Peter interrupted, staring at the… thingy on his skin in fascination. Ronan didn’t answer. And finally, for the first time in days, Peter smiled. Sincerely, open, beaming, the kind of smile Ronan had never really liked. It had been way too long since he had come to see it on his Terran’s lips. “Because it’s working. Thanks Roro! This is… this is awesome! I’ll make sure to bring you something. Is there anything you like, food or-” “Leave me be.”  
Peter chuckled. “Will do that. You’re the best Kree ever. The best. From all of them. Just so you know. I love you!” “Get lost.”

Eyes bright, Peter looked around. Korath had taken him to the market in what was considered Low-Town and everything was so _huge_. Tents made out of a strange red material, offering grilled meat -it was delicious, he’d had three pieces-, blacksmiths for weapons, armour, or any other kind of stuff, more food, someone who apparently made the “best working-boots Low-Town”, oh look, food again and- Something was touching his pocket. Without even thinking about it, he whirled around and- looked straight at what seemed to be a child, barely a teenager maybe, covered entirely in rags. And who, apparently, had been trying to pickpocket him. He looked bad for a Kree, too slim, not even the faintest hint of muscle. Frightened eyes looked into his own.  
“I guess you’re hungry?”  
The boy -it was a boy, even though he nearly was as tall as Peter- looked at him, eyes still frightened and finally, the Terran got it. He didn’t have a translator. Peter picked the one from his own ear, carefully inserting it into the boy’s before repeating his question and taking his translator back. For a minute, nothing happened. Then, the boy nodded. Peter grabbed his shoulder, to prevent to boy from running away (he had the feeling he was thinking about it) and made his way to the next tent. It seemed to offer different kinds of meat mixed with vegetable with some kind of sauce. “I do not attend to beggars,” the man inside growled, forcing Peter to lift an eyebrow. “Good then, because I don’t happen to be one. So you can either give me ten of those” -he pointed at some kind of roasted meat on a stick along with something that looked like beans- “Or I’ll just go to the next guy selling food two tents down and buy my stuff there.” The vendor narrowed his eyes. But well, what did that Roman Dude said? Money doesn’t stink. Or something like that. Didn’t really matter anyway.  
“There you go.” Offering the plate filled with meat-sticks and probably-beans, the boy’s eyes grew large. He rose his hands, not daring to take the plate. Peter carefully shoved it towards him. Hands shaking just the slightest amount, the boy took it. Looking down at the food, he swallowed. Then, he looked at Peter again. The Terran frowned. Why didn’t he eat it?  
“I will save it for my sister,” he explained. It was the first time the boy had spoken and Peter blinked. A sister? Well, that was… “I’ll take the same again,” he ordered. Looking rather unamused, the vendor prepared another plate, obviously wanting to get rid of them. Then, he signalled the boy to lead the way, only getting an open-mouthed stare instead. He rolled his eyes, nudging the boy to get going.  
Somewhere along the way he clearly started to doubt his decision. The boy was leading him far from the market, until he didn’t even have the slightest idea where he happed to be. Fucking shit, if this turned out to be some kind of trap he was so screwed. He considered leaving, but he’d never find the way back on his own. Below what looked like some kind of bridge, a few planks had been set up to make… well… some kind of home. A girl -even younger than the boy, she ended someway around his shoulder- rushed forward. “Lurian! Did you bring something? I just-” It was then, she noticed Peter and her mouth clamped shut, large, nearly panicked eyes looking at him. After a moment’s hesitation he carefully offered her the plate he carried, making her eyes go even larger. She was skinny -both of them were- and obviously scratching a living somehow. She thickly swallowed, looking for her brother, who made his way inside their hut (Peter decided to name everything as positively as he could). Looking uncertain, he carefully offered: “You can come inside… if you want to, I mean. You don’t have to, it’s just that-” Peter smiled a little, before following him. The girl closed the door (or something like that) behind her, leaving them in a single room. There was a table and a single chair, a wooden box to store… well, whatever there was to store, he guessed, a fire-place and a blanket. Wow. That really… wasn’t much to go with, was it?  
After a moment’s hesitation (and Peter physically shooing them to finally start) both of them wolfed down their meal. Seeing them eat was… Peter didn’t really know how to explain. _This could be me_ , he realised. If his mom hadn’t made sure to preparade as much as possible -and even that hadn’t been much- he could’ve been the one to pickpocket peoples’ pockets, to beg for food, to be without home and… he didn’t know.  
After the Kree had eaten, he carefully inserted the translator into the boy’s ear so he’d be able to understand him, before taking it back. “Why are you here?”

Peter smiled. Even though this day was… well, not at all what he had in mind, he was still glad to be here. He had gotten to know Hala’s people in ways he couldn’t have imagined and -the door (it served to keep people out and themselves in, Peter decided therefore it was a door, no matter how it looked like) was sent flying into the room, as a Kree entered. Black paint covered his face, dark armour his body, he even carried his hammer and- “What the fuck, Ronan”, he complained. “You could’ve-”  
“What are you _doing_?”, the Kree snarled and Peter blinked. “I’m having tea. It tastes awful, but don’t tell them. They wanted to-”  
“I left you to go to the market! This is… outrageous!” He could practically hear Ronan’s teeth work.  
“And I went to the market, didn’t I? Oh and… well… that was rude, so… Ronan, this is Lurian and Merai. Lurian, Merai: Ronan.” He uselessly waved his hand (the one that wasn’t busy holding a cup of awful tasting tea). They wouldn’t understand anything more anyway, without his translator.  
There was a shattering noise as a cup (Lurian told him they only had two… well, now they were down to one), as both, the boy and girl stared at him, wide-eyed.  
“This is the very last time you go out by yourself. You were to go to the market, not this slum!”  
“And I did go to the market and it was great and I even tried these little sticks, you know, the purple ones, but then Lurian tried to pickpocket me and I brought him food and he saved it for his sister so I brought some more and he showed me the way and I was-” “ _Shut up_ ,” the Accuser snarled. He was obviously trying to control himself instead of… well not controlling himself. Peter appreciated the effort.  
“So you are telling me”, he slowly started. Too slow. Fuck, this was gonna be bad. “You went to the market. You were being pickpocketed... and instead of doing the reasonable, you brought him food?!”  
“I did the reasonable thing,” Peter argued. “He was hungry, so I got him food!”  
Ronan’s lower-lip stuck out. Oh, fucking shit. This was bad. So very, very bad. “We will leave immediately,” he ordered, rage boiling right under the surface.  
Peter carefully set down his cup. “Is there… is there any way to get them out of here?”  
Not bothering to answer, his large blue hand gripped his upper-arm, forcing him to get up and- Peter yelped in pain and grit his teeth for a moment, to supress the sharp pain in his bicep. Within a second, Ronan had ripped off his sleeve, uncovering what was about to be a deep, purple bruise where his fingers had dug into the Terran’s flesh. The Kree grit his teeth. This wasn’t the first time something like this happened, but he’s sworn to never let it happen again, after the disaster following the Halori attack. His Terran was weak, so much weaker than him, and he was glad, so very glad he had supressed the urge to grab him by the throat to lift him up and… no. His thoughts were not to go to Peter’s lifeless form, throat crushed in a fit of his anger, never to move again.  
“They remind me of myself.” Peter’s quiet voice tore him out of his thoughts. “You know, if my mom wouldn’t have done anything in her power to make sure I got to keep the house, making sure I got a job as soon as possible, I…” He lowered his head, voice getting even quieter. “It could’ve been me, you know? Begging for money, pickpocketing, just… trying to survive in a world that doesn’t give a fuck about you. And I just… I just want to help them. You swore to protect your people at all costs… aren’t they your people, too?”  
Ronan grit his teeth.  
How dare he? How _dare_ he to ask something like that of him? He was Ronan, the Accuser, leader of the Krees’ military forces. It was Peter’s fault and his alone, he had been forced to lower himself to this… scum. Heads of all military families hoped for their offspring to be offered a position on the Dark Aster’s battle force. This was outrageous, unbelieva- _This was Peter. His face, the red hair he would recognise everywhere. Except this time it was dull and tangled. His skin looked grey, his cheekbones too sharp, his face younger. He was begging for food, as his mother’s house had been taken away from him, leaving him no place to stay. He was hungry, didn’t even wear shoes and-_ Ronan git his teeth. He couldn’t even imagine watching Peter like this, so very low there was nothing left of him and- “Boy.” He tore himself out of his unpleasant thoughts.  
“Y-Yes? Maste- I mean, A-” “Do _not_ interrupt me, while I am speaking,” Ronan snarled, his purple eyes burning in anger. Lurian wisely refrained from apologising. “To the ground. Push-ups.”  
Without even asking, the boy dropped to the ground, starting to push himself up again and lowering back to the ground. Peter blinked. What the hell- Ronan stepped closer, setting one of his feet on the boy’s back, pressing him face-first in the dirt. Using all his strength, he managed to get up two inches, before falling back. “I will not repeat myself,” the Accuser snarled.  
Using all the power left in him, arms shaking, the boy pushed himself up from the ground, managing to hold his position and -Ronan’s foot forced him back to the ground, where it took him a second to collect himself, trying to get up again, managing two inches, before being pushed back into the dirt.  
Peter didn’t know how long he stood there, watching Lurian struggle, breath ragged, until- Ronan stepped back. “Get up, boy.” Without even hesitating a single second, Lurian scrambled to his feet as quickly as possible, chest heaving, covered in sweat, arms and legs shaking. “I do _not_ need you. The very moment you are unable to follow my orders, I will have you returned to where you belong. Now take whatever belongings you have, including your sister. We will return to the Dark Aster.”  
The boy stared. His sister stared. Peter stared as well. Then, he blinked and a slow grin began to spread over his face. “You’re the best Kree ever.”  
“Shut up.”  
“The best of all of them. Every single one. Just so you know.”  
“I should rather leave _you_ here, sitting in the dirt.”  
“I love you.”

Turned out, strolling across the marked with Ronan was way less fun than going alone. Everyone started at the Accuser, yet nobody dared to talk to him -or speak at all, to be precise.  
When they finally entered the Dark Aster, Korath already awaited them, handing the siblings two translators. Peter had no idea how the fuck he knew about it, but well… he guessed there was a reason Korath was the Accuser’s first officer.  
“We are going to have a talk about this,” Ronan growled and Peter blinked at him. “But… I thought we already did! You, kicking open doors, me, getting food… I should’ve brought you one of these meat-sticks! The green ones. They were delicious.”  
Ronan lifted an invisible eyebrow at him. “That was _Suc’Brocr_ ,” he informed his lover, and Peter -knowing by now, this meant an animal that basically looked like a fucked-up mix between an alligator and a kangaroo- bit down the need to gag. “You should’ve told me! That was… Just no. Roro!”  
“Don’t call me that,” the Accuser growled. “I told you about its meat the last time you visited. You should have remembered.”  
“You told me a trizillion things back then! I can’t remember all of it, I don’t have a super-brain.”  
“Considering ‘a trizillion’ is nowhere even close to being an actual number, I doubt you have a brain at all.” He turned to Korath, ignoring his lover’s attempt to protest. “I don’t want any diseases brought onto the Aster. Complete check-up, then quarantine. I want Peter’s arm healed as soon as possible.” With that, he walked off, leaving the rest of them behind.  
Korath took a look at the two beaten-down Kree. “Follow me,” he ordered. Merai thickly swallowed, making Peter smile at her, to cheer her up a little. “C’mon, we’re almost there.”  
As soon as they arrived in the medical halls, Korath made sure to treat to Peter first, even though his injury was nowhere near grave. Nonetheless, Ronan would kill him (literally), if he took even so much as a look at the others first, even though their treatment would take way longer. He inserted needles in both of their arms, starting the rehabilitation-program to clean their system of the most common contagious diseases. Needing to make sure the quarantine areas were cleaned out, he finally left the room, leaving the three patients alone with a last sharp gaze. Peter rolled his eyes. Sometimes it felt as if everyone around him overacted.  
He turned around, careful not to tug on his arm. “Are you all right? I mean, I didn’t expect that to happen, I just wanted to help. I hope you’re fine with it, I didn’t mean to drag you off like this. Somehow, things just tend to happen when I’m around and-” Lurian stared at the weird person next to him. He was so… strange. Offering food, even so much as talk to them, and- “You are…” The words slipped out of his mouth before he was completely ware of them. “The great Accuser’s…”  
Peter shrugged. “Lover? Affair? Super-secret terran-thingy? Yeah, I guess I am.”  
The Kree stared at him. Ronan the Accuser was the supreme leader of his peoples’ combined battle forces, his name alone spread fear amongst their enemies. And then there was… this person. Peter was his name, he’d said. It was simply- The box on Peter’s arm beeped and he carefully took his arm out. The bruises had healed clean off, no reminder of Ronan’s forceful grip left. Korath showed up again. It was obvious they wouldn’t dare to have any kind of conversation now, so Peter got up. “Thanks, Korath! I’ll see you later guys. I hope you’ll be doing fine.”

Ronan was mad at him.  
Peter knew because even his fifth kicked-puppy glance didn’t soften his expression. And because Ronan refrained from coming to bed with him, claiming he had to work. Ronan always made sure to keep his schedule as light as possible whenever Peter was around (long story basically consisting of Peter getting bored after the third day of being mostly ignored, sneaking off the ship, getting arrested because he didn’t know touching that weird, giant tree was forbidden and spending nearly two days in prison before Ronan actually noticed something was off).  
Sighing heavily, he crawled under the covers Ronan made sure to get after their first night together and closed his eyes. He was tired… and a little sad. He hated conflicts, even more such involving himself and his lover. However, they were just so entirely different. It seemed, no matter what, they always ended up disagreeing at some point.  
Long after sleep had finally caught him, Ronan stood next to the bed, watching the sleeping Terran. Peter was unhappy. Ronan genuinely disliked whenever his lover was low-spirited. It didn’t fit his nature. However much it tended to annoy him, the bright, beaming smile was something that so much belonged to Peter that it felt as if a part of him was gone, now, that he just stared at him with something Ronan by now was able to interpret as sadness.  
And yet.  
Peter _had_ to learn. He couldn’t simply walk into the streets, talking to people ranking the lowest of the low, following them home. Forcing him to take action, to search for him, when the signals showed him way off the market he was supposed to be, making him- his hands tightened into fists and he forced himself to let go of the thought. It had just been… Peter. He should have known better than allowing him to roam around all by himself. His lover _always_ got into trouble. He remembered that one time he touched the Gimaras’ sacred Tree of Dreams and got imprisoned right after. He’d been boiling with rage back then. At Peter, for sneaking off the ship. At the Gimara for daring to imprison his lover (he’d been on the edge of simply slaughtering their spiritual leader) and afterwards… at himself. It had taken him two days to even fully recognise his lover’s absence, actually being glad to be able to work uninterrupted instead of having Peter around.  
He knew Peter basically wanted to be friends with everyone he met. How he even survived on his own, being naïve and stubborn as he was, Ronan didn’t know. He carefully slid into bed next to his lover’s sleeping form, not wanting to wake him (not that it mattered, Peter tended to sleep so deeply he could be murdered a dozen times over). Finally, he closed his eyes, sliding into sleep…  
… and jerked awake an unknown amount of time later, when something hot and wet engulfed his cock. He barely managed to supress his instinct of smashing whatever attacker dared to assail him in his sleep into the next wall. Instead, he forced his body to remain on the mattress, simply lifting his head to watch the mess of red hair that covered Peter’s face, his lips around his member. The Terran had crawled above his legs, awkwardly as not to wake him (he would have awoken, if he hadn’t gotten used to his lover’s sleep that was as restless and chaotic as he himself) and was now swallowing around his flesh, making the Accuser buck into his hot mouth.  
He gripped his lover’s hair, pulling his head up ever so slightly… and forcing it back onto his cock, making the sweetest gagging sound escape him. Again, his hips bucked upwards, however; his unyielding hand kept Peter’s head still, forcing another gag from him. His cock started to harden in Peter’s hot mouth, he felt him eagerly sucking off the self-lubricant that was staring to moisten his girth. Peter moaned around it, trying to engulf him further, but failing, since his mouth was too small to get all of it inside. He could feel Peter’s throat opening for him and groaned at the tightness of it. “Are you trying to bribe me, Terran?”, he growled, making him hum with his mouth full of hot, unyielding flesh. The hand in his hair tightened, forcing his head down again, while Ronan trusted into his awaiting mouth. He couldn’t take all of him, it simply was too much… be barely even fit into Peter’s tight asshole, having to loosen him up if he didn’t want to hurt him. His free arm gripped the Terran’s naked cheeks, slipping between them and his fingers began opening his hole, making him shudder.  
He felt Peter’s tongue pressing against the underside of his cock, his mouth too filled to do anything but, sucking as hard as he could. Slightly loosening the grip in his hair, he started fucking the Terran’s mouth, feeling him gag again and again, until tears started to leak out of his eyes. “Stop crying,” he growled, forcing his lover’s head down for a few seconds, thus cutting off his airflow. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”  
Peter didn’t answer, too busy trying to breathe, as Ronan snapped his hips forward again. He could see the outline of his cock in his lover’s throat, barely even able to take him in. He loved the taste of Ronan’s cum, claiming it was slightly sweet, and it had taken a _lot_ of practice to be able to take him into his mouth this far. He loved it. He loved the feeling of having his mouth stuffed with the Kree’s enormous cock, to do nothing more than somehow managing to breathe while his lover force-fucked his face as he saw fit, loved the feeling of Ronan spilling in his mouth, down his throat… even though he was such a delicate species, Ronan knew he did.  
The Accuser hissed, as Peter somehow managed to suck on his cock, already leaking pre-come, despite gagging straight after. He could see the Terran’s eyes nearly roll back in enjoyment, before tightening his grip again, snapping his hips forward. “Do not dare to spill,” he growled, forcing his length even deeper into the Terran’s mouth, before spilling his seed into him. Peter greedily swallowed all he was given; Ronan watched his throat bob under the stream of cum he took, two fingers forcing themselves into the Terran’s tight asshole. Finally, he was done, lifting Peter’s head from his cock. Still hard, as he would have to come at least twice more to be completely done.  
“What do you think you are doing?” The Accuser lifted an eyebrow at him.  
“Making…up… sex.” The Terran’s voice was hoarse as he licked his lips and he moaned in disappointment as Ronan pulled out his fingers… only to greedily salivate them as the Kree inserted them into his mouth.  
Within a single moment, Ronan switched places, forcing him into the mattress, while he himself was now hovering over his lover. He pulled out his fingers. “I deem it punishment,” he stated, roughly inserting three fingers at once into the Terran’s loosened hole, making him moan and gasp for air. His own cock was by now slippery again, the self-lubricant nearly dripping from it, while Peter’s member was red and swollen, begging to be touched. Using two fingers, Ronan circled its base, pressing down and making the Terran cry out as pain throbbed through it, making his orgasm drift away again.  
Unceremoniously, Ronan extracted his fingers, gripping Peter’s hips and dragging them up. With a smacking sound, he slammed himself into Peter’s hole, forcing him to cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. Not even leaving him a moment to collect himself, he started slamming into the Terran’s awaiting hot hole, loving to watch his cock disappear in his lover, claiming him, using him as he saw fit. There was nothing better than this. Not even the heat of battle, not even- nothing. Having Peter’s hole wrapped so tightly around him, his stomach already filled with his come, his mouth used as he screamed Ronan’s name… was a bliss. He felt the muscles clench around him, wanting to pull him in even deeper, until he had stuffed him to the root, taking a moment to let Peter get adjusted to all of his girth, knowing how much it was to take for him.  
And then he pulled back nearly all the way, slamming back inside right after, forcing the sweetest scream from the Terran’s lips. Again… and again, until he was a quivering mess. Using the grip on Peter’s hips to force himself even deeper inside, the air around them filled with the sound of his cock slipping inside his lover’s lubricated hole and he could feel the used flesh around his member tightening, until Peter cried out, spilling his seed on his own stomach, sobbing his name as Ronan continued to fuck his oversensitive, raw hole, before spilling once again, this time inside his lover. Two single tears leaked down his eyes at the overwhelming feeling of being filled with hot cum to the brim. Ronan kissed his lips, nearly tenderly, cock still stuffed inside him, and finally retreated, making his cum flow out of his empty hole, down his legs. Peter whimpered at the feeling, wishing to keep the seed inside.  
“It is all good,” Ronan murmured into his ear, pulling him into his arms. “You are good.”  
At least until tomorrow.


End file.
